The Breast by Philip Roth

David Kepesh wakes up one morning within the health facility, mysteriously altered. via an endocrinopathic disaster of unheard of proportions, he has been remodeled right into a 155-pound human woman breast. Railing on the incomprehensible, he makes use of his intelligence to disclaim and face up to the item he has turn into. finally, he needs to settle for his destiny. Philip Roths The Breast is a humorous, fantastical tale and a extraordinary but bold exploration of intercourse and subjectivity.

PI Joe Copp takes at the global of corruption inside of a police strength long past undesirable. Copp reveals himself on an icy, downhill path of homicide, intercourse, medications, and soiled politics and the badge he wears bargains little defense opposed to evil forces of corrupt lawmakers and cops. A knockout punch by means of grasp story-teller Don Pendleton, writer of The Executioner: Mack Bolan sequence of action/adventure.

Milkman lifeless was once born presently after a local eccentric hurled himself off a rooftop in a useless try at flight. For the remainder of his lifestyles he, too, can be attempting to fly. With this brilliantly imagined novel, Toni Morrison transfigures the coming-of-age tale as audaciously as Saul Bellow or Gabriel García Márquez.

Bailouts and impressive plans for restoration have didn't rescue the United States's crumbling economic system. because the kingdom stands close to overall monetary cave in, the president takes a determined gamble and moves a discount with China to put in writing off America's debt. it kind of feels an excellent move--until the very best courtroom is destroyed through a cruise missile in a surprising assault and new york is invaded.

The ultimate Horatio Hornblower tale tells of Napoleon's plans to invade England. .. Set in 1805, Hornblower and the problem unearths Horatio Hornblower in ownership of private dispatches from Bonaparte after a vicious hand-to-hand stumble upon with a French brig. The admiralty rewards Hornblower by way of sending him on a perilous espionage undertaking that may gentle the powder path resulting in the conflict of Trafalgar.

Whenever it stopped of its own accord at one of those holes bordered with thorns that farmers dig along the edge of their ploughed land, Charles, waking with a start, would quickly remember the broken leg, and try to recall all the fractures that he knew. It was no longer raining; day was breaking, and, on the leaﬂess branches of the apple trees, birds sat motionless, ﬂuﬃng out their tiny feathers in the cold morning wind. The ﬂat landscape extended as far as the eye could see, the clumps of trees round the farms making widely spaced splashes of dark purple on that vast grey surface which, at the horizon, merged with the dreary tones of the sky.

When he entered Les Bertaux his horse took fright, and shied violently. It was a prosperous-looking farm. Through the open half-doors of the stables you could see huge draught horses placidly feeding from brand-new mangers. A stream of vapour arose from the big manureheap that ﬂanked the buildings, and, standing out among the hens and turkeys, ﬁve or six peacocks––that luxury of Pays de Caux farmyards––were pecking for food. The sheep-run was long and the barn tall, with walls as smooth as the back of your hand.

Père Rouault embraced his future son-in-law. They put oﬀ any discussion of money matters, there was plenty of time for that, since the marriage could not decently take place before the end of Charles’s mourning, that is to say, not until the following spring. The winter passed in waiting. Mademoiselle Rouault busied herself with her trousseau. Part of it was ordered from Rouen, and she made herself nightgowns and nightcaps with the help of fashionplates which she borrowed. During the visits Charles made to the Madame Bovary  farm they talked about the preparations for the wedding, wondering which room they’d use for the wedding feast, how many courses they’d have, and what particular dishes they’d serve.